On the Foley Thing

For the benefit of our viewers in Mongolia who have yet to hear of this, US House of Representatives Member Mark Foley resigned today following the release of emails and messages he allegedly sent to teenage male pages.

In my opinion, he gets off easy with resignation. If these allegations prove true, he needs to be criminally prosecuted to the fullest extent -- under several laws that he had a major hand in passing.

Numerous questions will be raised and asked because of this, as they should be.....most of them centering on and trying to make sense out of the reasons that Foley, who not only publicly denounced child stalkers and molesters, but also pushed through several initiatives meant to catch and control them, would make such an incredible mistake.

Perhaps it was because he understood their motives all too well......but didn't believe he could ever be trapped by them.

Right-wing zealots will no doubt see and act on this as a golden opportunity to once again, as they have before, link homosexuality and pedophilia, especially given that foolish and shortsighted "gay activists" are trying to claim that Foley's actions are because he is a closeted gay.

The simple fact of the matter is, though, that pedophilia is as predominant in heterosexuals as it is in homosexuals. The stronger argument, in my opinion, is that pedophilia is a sexual addiction, unrelated to orientation, with the motivation of the pedophile being rooted less in gender and ordinary sexual attraction than in age. Numerous cases of pedophiles who molest both boys and girls would seem to reinforce this.

In short, regardless of what Foley's sexual orientation is, if he is indeed guilty of what he is accused, he is not only a criminal, but an addict in severe need of help. Pedophilia is a lamentable illness, a sickness, and cannot be reasonably associated with any healthy expression of same- or opposite-gender sexuality.

That being said, there ARE gay pedophiles, just as there are heterosexual pedophiles. Indeed, this is one area in which gays and straights could recognize considerable solidarity in our opposition -- that is, if gays could get past our knee-jerk and counterproductive reactions whenever the words "child molestor" are spoken.

'Twill be interesting to see what happens.

If You're Reading This........

you're probably NOT observing Yom Kippur.

But if you don't tell, I won't.

It Lives, It LIVES

I have had suspicions before that this blogging thing was a little to the left of nicotine and Vicodin in terms of addictive potential, and the return of Chad at Cake or Death? just adds fuel to that particular fire. However it came about, the blogosphere is richer to have his wry and sardonic commentary back in full force.

Plus, at least he was doing something interesting while on break.

Driving Mister Danny

Unlike most of my New Year's resolutions, not driving to work more than twice a week has been relatively easy to keep. So easy, in fact, that I drove to my job exactly once in my past seven months of employment (ironically, because I needed to get to an interview for another one).

Now, with a change in commute destination from Oakland to Redwood City, in which using transit would change from a simple BART ride to a Tinker to Evers to Chance-esque combination of Muni, Caltrain, and corporate shuttle, I was counting workdays left in the year and calculating whether or not I could technically still meet this resolution. After all, with the price of gas falling due to Republican conspiracy, a four-lane interstate for all but three miles, no bridge to cross, beautiful scenery of Bay and mountains as I drove, and free parking at my destination, what would I want with THAT messy mix of transfers, stinky stations, and dubious-looking passengers?

Worst. Decision. Ever.

I will finish out this week via auto because I must, mainly because it may take that long to accumulate the necessary tickets. Come Monday morning at 7:20 AM, though, my butt will be parked on the bus, train, and van where it belongs.

Why, you ask?

One, because transit is better for the environment -- especially given that my thirty-five mile commute is equal parts Indy 500 with driver's ed dropouts and parking lot, all of which pumps more carbon dioxide and assorted pollutants into the atmosphere than an Al Gore rally.

Two, because it costs less. Even in my fuel-efficient little roadrunner, I can't beat an average cost of $7 per day; that doesn't even covers the mileage costs for the car, much less the $500 I am now charging per hour for personal aggravation.

Three, the complete and utter virtue of laziness. There is something beyond magical in sitting back, reading the paper, and watching even the Prius owners suck fumes as you go gliding gracefully by, knowing that, unlike them, you likely WILL arrive at your destination on time.

In short, it's green, cheap, and smug. I'm all about that. :)

Blog Potpourri

-- This brings a whole new meaning to "Made in Italy".

-- Based on what I know about how they're doing this, seems like the big challenge will be getting through without puking. And no, I'm not talking about the patient.

-- My suggestion: Start a scorecard before reading.

The Paradox of Folsom

Today from 11 AM to 6 PM is the Folsom Street Fair.

Drawn out by the balmy temperatures and booths offering everything from falafel to flogging, three hundred thousand revelers will fill the stretch of South of Market between 7th and 12th Streets, in the city where inhibition is a dirty thought and freedom's just another word for taking your clothes off in public.

I will be there in the middle of it, smiling, flirting, gabbing.....and thinking.

Folsom, in its own way, is an expression of what we are about as a community. It's the chance to pull things from the back of your closet, mental and physical, and put them out on public display; a final summer cleaning, if you will, where inhibitions are shed, where you can be you, and where the true, overwhelming pleasure of being a sexual being can finally come forth. You need not be ashamed of who or what you are on this September afternoon -- a powerful and heady thought.

Yet the reason I will be there is precisely because of what happens when sexual beings run rampant without thought or care.

Some might say that this is a self-inflicted wound; that the attitudes allowed at Folsom is what has let AIDS strike down and bury so many pieces of our community. From pulpits and public forums across the country, this place, this event is denounced as mere debauchery, as sex perverted into something hideous and horrible -- and that those who the icy hand of HIV grips are getting nothing more than their just desserts, the swift sword of God Himself striking down the undesirables.

But it is not.

Andrew Sullivan caught considerable flak for his statements of how HIV infection transformed his life -- something easy to interpret negatively for those who suffer through the deaths of loved ones or the pain and anguish they felt.

Yet, on the other hand, HIV and AIDS has forced the gay community to come out and together as nothing else possibly could. Not a one of us would have chosen plague as a means of that happening -- yet out of this has come thousands, millions, of volunteer time and dollars, of people reaching beyond and discovering a new purpose for their energies, of changed perspectives and reordered priorities.

HIV/AIDS was the coming of age of who we were, what we are, and what we will be as a community.

So tomorrow, I will stand near the corner of Dore and Folsom, kilt on, smile engaged, witty banter at full steam, using, ironically, sexual desire to defuse, defang, and defeat what sexual desire has wrought on our community.

Yes, it is a paradox. But it also is a statement.....the spirit of Folsom, that freedom, will not be destroyed by public distaste or ravaging pandemic.

We exist, still as free as we ever we were....but united and wiser.

Pain and Suffering for Fun and Profit

For those of you who aren't familiar with San Francisco's calendar, this week is Leather Week, which culminates on Sunday with the world-infamous Folsom Street Fair (SO not safe for work).

Most people know this by the fact that the massive rainbow flag that hangs over the intersection of Castro and Market Street has changed into the Leather Pride Flag.

I know this by the fact that my legs are already starting to ache.

As a C-list gay celebrity (meaning people don't recognize me with sunglasses and a shirt on), part of the joys of the job are getting to meet people and raise money for good causes at various events and appearances.

Unfortunately, all of this usually happens while standing on hard asphalt or cement for ten or so hours at a stretch.

Remember this rule: A-listers get chairs, B-listers get carpet, and C-listers get cramps.

Thank God my husbear is letting me borrow his kilt. I can deal with painful feet if there's a breeze in the right places.

Looooocy, I'm Hoo-oome!!!!!

NDT is back in the full-time blog business.

Why, you ask?

Because I have succeeded in what I thought was previously impossible -- getting banned from both gay leftist blogs and blogs who are against gay leftists.

That, and I figure it's cheaper than Prozac.

Expect a few changes....namely, that I don't intend to be as serious all the time, nor do I expect to write as much. Brevity is, after all, the mark of a good communicator.

However, expect our proud tradition of equal-opportunity buttkicking to continue well into the future.

I also reiterate; no matter WHO you are, you are free to comment here. If I can't tolerate peoples' words, I shouldn't be in the blogging business.

With that.....good day!